It's Different This Year

A week ago I celebrated Martin Luther King Jr.'s birthday with a day off from work, one of the perks I'm thankful to have. And the week ended with the inauguration of Donald Trump as president.

Like many, I have been thinking a lot, worrying much, stuck in between wanting to live my life and make plans and feeling the need to hold onto what I have even more fervently than in the past. Feeling like I need to make my kids stronger, both emotionally and physically, to stand against what might be. I want to be with them more, protect them more, ensure their futures are not soiled.

We hang onto what we can; it's my conversation with a co-worker of Mexican decent whose mother never learned English, for whom he translated as a young child. Exactly what happened to me with an Italian mom. Making peace with what we have, trying to get along.

While I have tried to accept that some of the people I like voted for him, and I talk with them, about everyday things like coffee and the weather, our children and grandchildren, ideals I know we have in common, I still cannot understand what they were thinking November 8. I talk with them, all the while feeling like I know their "dirty little secret" and can't utter a word, as though I notice a booger on their face and am not brave enough to tell them about it.

For many others, the hatred that apparently was hidden is showing. I've had many African American friends, many female, tell me that racism exists. I see it. I feel it, as a female. But as one of my friends once told me, I will never understand what it is like to be African American. She was right. She said that I could pretend to be someone else while she could not even if she tried.

We've come a long way since then, and I was encouraged with the Obamas in the White House. It was not just the presidency: it was Michelle's fight for children, for healthy eating and exercise, for introducing me to J. Crew, it was having the same dress she owned but in a different color. It was belonging. It was Barack fooling around with the young children who visited the White House, shooting hoops, singing and dropping the mic. Being on "Ellen". It was US. It did not matter that we are different colors; I once dreamt they came over to my house for dinner. They are the people next door, with a little girl around my son's age.

It is not shocking to hear that some of my co-workers voted for Trump. It is shocking to hear my son tell me that one of his classmates called Martin Luther King Jr. day, "White Supremacy Day". It is shocking that my three-year-old daughter does not yet understand what is going on, and what will I say when she asks me why the president hated cats?

When I was her age, JFK was president. When I was her age, civil rights were coming of age. Black Power, the Women's Movement.

And as one of the signs of one of the marchers at the Seneca Falls Women March Jan. 21 said, "I'm 71 and I can't believe I still have to protest this f-in s-!"

The conversations, the heated moments, among friends and family. "Why didn't you march when you were at the forefront of all this in the sixties?" I ask my husband. He felt he was sheltered, did not know he could make a difference. But it's never too late.

I would look out the window of our tiny Greenwich Village apartment and see protesters, hear music, listen to speeches. Washington Square Park, not far from our apartment, filled with Vietnam War protesters, civil rights and women's rights activists.

Why haven't we come that far? I thought we were making progress, to the point where my friend did not have to consider pretending to be something she isn't?

Where is that moment? What happened that it slipped away?

What kind of future will my 13-year-old son and 3-year-old girl have? What happened that I feel like turning in my Sophie Theallet Michelle Obama dress for self defense lessons?

Why do I feel like I should be even more protective of my children at the times when they should be spreading their wings?

It's the embarrassment I felt when an African American man in an inner city store the other day did not hold the door for me. I was sure it was because he assumed since I am white and I was dressed well and employed (work ID tag gave me away) that I voted for HIM. I wanted to say something, but what? I resisted the urge to shout, "I'm one of YOU!" Why do I feel so defensive?

Why do I have to worry about my peers feeling defensive when I stand up for our rights, all our rights, African American, Hispanic, Jewish, Muslim, disabled, gay, lesbian, transgender and bisexual, short, tall, thin and heavy, blue eyed, hazel eyed, brown eyed, blonde, both natural and bottle, curly haired, straight haired, morning people, night people, cat people, dog people, coffee lovers, tea lovers, fast food lovers, vegans, homeowners, tiny house owners, campers, renters, staycationers, frequent flyers, ...oh, and aren't we all different? Why can't we just celebrate our differences?

Why do we have to feel afraid of being different, and if a woman is outspoken she automatically must be on her period or be called "nasty"?

And it's NOT normal to have temperatures in the high fifties in January in Central New York, followed by a snowstorm!

Why are we so divided? Where are we headed?

 

As Time Moves On

I just found this. Written at the start of September 2015. Never published.

It has been nearly a year since my last post. I think back on the year as though today is New Year's Eve. So much has happened, so much has changed in less than a year.

There were so many fine things this year and there will be new and better things on the horizon. However, I also think back with sadness and grief, for this is the year I lost two dogs; moved offices twice; and soon will be moving from my home on the river to a new home.

My children grew so right before my eyes. But I regret the inability to be with them more often to see the changes on a daily basis. Soon I hopefully will be able to adopt one of my babies, but the long, drawn-out process has taken its toll.

It is hard to always remember the good times because they have gone. I know full well that there will be more good things in the future, and perhaps even better than I can now imagine, but bad memories plague my thoughts.

As I sit at work, still at the job that only provides me with income and benefits and nothing else, I try to envision a future free of stress and worry. I know that is not realistic! I also know I've been quite lucky in many ways.

In January we had to give up Rosie, one of our Labradoodles, as crate training just was not working out. She was returned to the home of her momma. Trying to shake this winter cold, started using zinc.

In February, my family and I took a beautiful two and a half week trip to Florida, visiting the Keys and Disney. Jimmy, our Labradoodle (Rosie's dad), stayed behind with Tommy, our neighbor/dog sitter. We managed to avoid some of the season's worst snow storms. It seemed none of us wanted to return and secretly dreamed of living in Key Largo. Maggie had just had her second lumpectomy and seemingly was doing better and better, even barking at another dog on our trip (which surprised Reese, who had never witnessed that side of Maggie!)

Upon our return we spent many evenings at water aerobics at the Cato Rec Center; Rich playing pickle ball regularly there and around town, and continuing through summer with Logan tagging along.

Spring brought with it tons of rain, a new RV, one camping trip, and starting a summer-long hunt for a new home that began with discovering the sale of a nearby house. Even before that process started I had decided to do a lot of cleanup around our house and property: shed, garage, entryway, laundry room, hallway. I guess I was lucky to have been inspired to do all that cleanup! We had one major adoption court session in April.

Memorial Day weekend brought another camping trip, Taste of Syracuse twice, once with Dariel, Logan's friend, then summer. Two weeks later I discovered another lump on Maggie and she started breathing hard and hacking constantly. Another camping trip for Father's Day weekend. That was Maggie's last trip with us. We made the decision to let her go, June 30.

A wedding shower in June followed by a wedding in July.

Another camping trip, this time adding on two weekdays, in July. We managed to visit nearby Gilley Lake twice; Green Lakes once; and Sylvan Beach once. Logan's friends Ryan and Luke spent several weekends individually. Local restaurants. Checking out two car shows. And then there was a play and two movies, along with the Sterling Renaissance Festival. And, most of June and July, regular house cleanings, house showings, and house hunting. Started packing. And another court session.

Due to the high water level (still on the 4th of July) we did not get to swim in our river until July 18; but we did get in lots more swimming than the previous couple of years (about eight times thus far) since we were home this summer. Hopefully this week we can take some late summer dips as the weather is expected to be hot. The weather has not been as hot this summer as typically. And we also developed sinus colds as a result! Back to the zinc!

In August, we attended a breakfast barbeque, Logan's friend Luke's birthday party at a water park, visited a nearby farm where Logan and Reese rode ponies; and stayed overnight one Saturday at a hotel with an indoor water park, in Batavia. We had brunch in Cazenovia with Richie and Ploy and afterward took a dip in Cazenovia Lake. And last Saturday, stayed overnight at the Doubletree in Henrietta, enjoying the pool and Reese perfecting her jumps. We joined the new YMCA in Baldwinsville last weekend and visited that day and yesterday, loving the "lazy river". We can't wait to try the other offerings!

Earlier in the month I took two days off to hang out with Logan. He attempted to take me on a jet ski ride up the river to the playground, but that did not pan out as we planned. We made it as far as Cooper's Marina and the jet ski appeared to smoke and stall. The jet ski now is sold, along with our boats over the years, four wheelers, and motorcycles. For now we still have our kayaks; Logan and I took those out a couple of times. I see friends' social networking posts about their vacations and boat trips, and I watch boats go by outside, and I miss those days. I also recall how stressful those trips often were, however! And expensive! I do recall our great February Florida trip, though, when all these people were here freezing and plowing snow!

August also brought another wedding shower and upcoming rehearsal dinner and wedding. Some shopping. And part two of the adoption trial. It is a termination of parental rights trial but I prefer to call it by something positive!

I tell people I don't know where July and August went, but I have to give myself credit for having done so much. This probably is the first summer where we actually did enjoy "staycations". And next week, back to school for Logan. Thankfully Labor Day is later this year!

But as I mentioned in my book Vacation, it is funny that the past couple of years I really miss Summer as it departs and I sort of lament the arrival of Fall. I really think this started happening once I began to live on the river.

This week we will be moving to a new home, where I believe I will truly enjoy Fall. It is a "Fall" kind of home! The apple orchard we visit is just two miles away; the dog park only four miles away. There is a ravine, a creek and lots of woods surrounding the home, and the beautiful Seneca River, which brought me comfort through all the losses (my brother Fred; yellow Lab Gracie; father-in-law Dick; and Maggie), is still only a half-mile or mile, walking distance, away.

This week we also will hear the verdict on our foster baby, the culmination of the July-Aug. trial. Little Reese, as we call her, now is a pre-schooler and no longer a "worm" of a newborn or toddler.

The move and the adoption have been out of our control as far as reaching completion. We sit and wait.

I feel my busy summer work schedule, though at times stressful, was good for me, as it helped me occupy my mind.

Now, beginning with work, things seem to be winding down, with each leaf that turns and falls, and the evenings darker with each passing day. I look at our deck, which Rich and Logan updated just a year ago. I see the sunset, which occurs earlier and earlier each day. Soon I will not see this sunset from my home.

Tomorrow is September.

In another week new things will happen.

Stay tuned to see how I will feel!